


Blow Us All Away

by blazingstar29



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Autistic Peter Parker, Bucky Barnes Feels, F/M, Hamilton inspired title, Homeless Peter Parker, Hurt Peter, Marvel - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Peter Parker sad, Peter Parker scared, Precious Peter Parker, Self-Harm, Singer Peter Parker, Tags Are Hard, heed the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-13 12:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16892202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazingstar29/pseuds/blazingstar29
Summary: "It has been two years since teen Peter Parker has gone missing from the care of his guardian. Police of Queens have said it is with a heavy heart they close the case on the orphaned teen. Head of missing persons at Queens police department released a statement this morning: 'It is devastating that we must think that Peter Parker has unfortunately died. We give condolences to any former friends or distant family.'. Thats all from me, tune in for the weather at six."Steve clicked off the channel with a sigh, it was always hard to hear about the cases they could never help.What Steve didn't know is that maybe he could.COMPLETEDREAAD TAGS





	1. A Grace to Powerful to Name

Steve sat uninterrupted for over an hour. He barley registered the voice that was singing as he drew. His hand floating over the page. It was purely vocal, and sung by an adolescent male, but other than that Steve didn't focus long enough of the modern songs for long.

"Can I get you any thing else?" A young woman with a thick Australian accent asked, notebook flipped open.

"No thank you ma'm," the Captain declined, and as she walked away he heard the busker come through with an unusually low note that drew his attention. Standing on a milk crate was a scruffy looking older teen or a barley twenty adult. He stood with a take out box at his feet filled with a coins.

"-and it pleased the Lord. But you don't really care for music do you?" the busker took a breath, filling his lungs before continuing, "it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift! The baffled king composing, 'Hallelujah'."

The singers talent was clear at that very moment and something stirred in the soldiers chest, "excusing me!" He called after the Australian waitress, the woman turned back to his table.

"Change your mind?" she asked.

"No, no. I was just wondering who the singer was?" he asked, jerking his head in the buskers direction.

"That's Peter, he comes here a couple times a week. Has a heart of gold, sings with a trained voice. The crowd usually ignores him, but sometimes, he will grab them and hold them for some time," the woman answered the curious man.

"Huh, thanks," he told her absently. Peter, sang for a little while longer before collecting his change and entering the shop, and emerging with a sandwich. He sat cross legged by the wall, the minute, Steve thought, that he stepped off his crate he became invisible.

Tucking his payment under the mug, Steve crossed over to the boy. Peter felt the cliché shadow fall over him, he was on his feet, not really noticing who he was talking to as he packed his things away.

"I'm going, sorry I offended your daggy brick wall by thinking I might sit there and eat my sandwich. Fucking shop owners," he growled turning away, when a hand grabbed his shoulder. Peter flinched violently. He turned to see Steve Rogers standing there with his hands up in surrender .

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not asking you to leave, I just heard you singing and want to talk," Steve tried to diffuse the situation. Peter's brown dipped, but his stance relaxed. Steve pushed down the urge to say 'at ease soldier'. It was force of habit that had followed him through the ice.

"I sing, what more do you want to know?" Peter revealed to the soldier, his eyes were flicking nervously everywhere. "Because I honestly doubt Captain Rogers gives two shits about some kid who sings for cash." Steves eyes narrowed, kid.

"How old are you?"

"For fuc- sixteen... I think," Peter growled, turning to leave the conversation that screwed up his day.

"You live on the streets, don't you?" The soldier asked as the way too young teen walked away.

"Gold star, spangles!" Peter called over his shoulder, he only get ten paces when he spun on his heel. Peter was sprint back to Rogers, he barley passed by without knocking him. Steve looks after him, only seconds later two much older boys, no, adults. They disappeared into the bustling crowd immediately. He turned, putting it down to teenage shenanigans, until his enhanced hearing picked up the shout.

"Pay up Parker, or we get a different payment!"

"No! Not please, not again!"

"Then pay up dipshit!"

"I didn't make anything today! No one was feeling particularly charitable, go make your own cash," a voice said that must have belonged to Peter. Steve couldn't stand by hearing the threats, he wondered if this was how Bucky felt way back in the 40's. Setting off at a jog he started to track down the back street where the threats where being spoken.

After a few minutes and looping back he found Peter in an alley almost parallel to where he was. What really tipped Steve off was the two boys running out and crossing the street. Lengthening his stride Steve sped to the hall, panic finally genuinely settling in his stomach. Halting Steve paused at the entrance of the alley, the adrenaline causing the blood to thump loudly in his ears.

"Peter?" Steve called, walking deeper in.

"Fuck off," a strangled voice protested from behind a dumpster, or as Steve got closer, inside the dumpster. Peter's hand was sticking out between the side of the dumpster and the lid. His heart falling, he lifted up the lid with ease. Inside was Peter on his back, blood running down his face in rivulets. One eye already darkening, what would remain with Rogers till the day he died though, was the broken look on Peter's face.

"Come buddy," Steve said, hooking his hands under Peter's armpits. The minute Steve began to take his weight, Peter let out a spine shaking cry of distress. It made Steve almost drop him in shock, but he kept his nerve until he got Peter over the edge. Lowering himself to the ground he brought Peter slowly with him.

"Hey kid, rise and shine," he tried to rouse him, tapping his cheek. But Peter merely fluttered his eyes for a moment before letting his head fall to the side. Steve pulled the flip phone from his pocket, and began to dial the tower. The dial tone pulsed four four beats, until he got the reply.

"Yello, you've reached Amazon Primes prime avenger Hawkeye how may I help you?" Clint answered, Steve could see him know, wearing sweats, mug of milk in hand.

"Clint, im sending Tony my location know, get him out here with a car," Steve ordered down the line, still trying to awaken Peter.

"What up, spangles?" Clint asked, concern starting to creep into his voice.

"A kid I was talking to has been put through a meat tenderiser by some not so friendly friends of his," he answered sitting back on his heels.

"Tony says he's coming, he should be with you soon," Clint assured.

*******************

Peter heard silence,

And then he heard breathing.

He heard foot steps,

and machines going off.

He heard the ventilation systems,

and the wind going through drafts.

Thats definitely not what he's supposed to hear.

Peter is meant to hear shouting,

and thousands of thundering foot steps.

Honking hornes,

and taxi hailers.

And he should not be lying in a bed, he opens his eyes, and his senses haven't betrayed him.

He is in a bed. In a small room with the sun filtering through the shades.

Now Peter doesn't know much of waking in strange rooms that look welcoming, but usually there isn't a man watching you.

"Who are you, and where the fuck am I?" Peter croaked, panic setting upon him. The room was no longer comforting, but claustrophobic as the man said nothing.

"Where am I?" Peter raised his voice, he glanced, searching for a plausible weapon if need be.

"I have to ask you to calm down or I will be forced to restrain you," the man asked, taking a step towards Peter. He touched a finger to his ear, "this is Coulson, I want someone ready on back up in medbay right now."

"I'm asking you, and I want an answer, right now. Where am I?" Peter asked, his voice dropping from a yell. Coulson lifted his finger to his ear once again, and it was like a trigger had been pulled.

Peter stumbled from the bed, tugging his heart monitor along until it crashed to the floor. The canula was wrapped around his neck, and it felt like it was strangeling him. Peter ripped it over his head and flinging it behind him. Peter made a mad dash to the door, but he slid to stop in fright when it was flung open to reveal a dark haired man. His eyes swept from Coulson then to Peter.

"Queens?" The man with shoulder length hair asked, his almost grey eyes filled with concern. Peter baulked, taking a step back, before he fell forward again into the mans arms.

"Bucky, whats going on?" Peter sobbed, an uncontrollable force shaking him to the bones with fright. Bucky brought them down against the wall, rocking Peter like a child, because fuck, he was one. The instinct to protect Peter, or as he knew him, Queens, from the day he met him, was strong. As strong as his need to protect Steve as a teen was. Because he be damned if they didn't have a resemblance.

"Your safe, your okay. No ones gunna get you."

"They chased me Buck, all the way from Queens," Peter sobbed harshly into the mans shoulder. His fists were curled tight like a young child's, around Buck's jacket.

"They won't get you anymore, I promise. I promise, on Steve's shield okay? On my arm, on Natasha's guns and Clint's arrows. I promise, I won't let any one hurt you again okay?" He promised, putting his heart into every word.

Peter slipped into sleep shortly after, the panic attack leaving hum even more shattered than before. As Bucky lifted him back onto the bed, he silently signalled for Coulson to follow him.

Outside the room was Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov and Steve Rogers. They were silent, and questioning. None of them looked battle ready, far from it. Not even ready to adult, least of all Tony who's jeans were faded and a shirt that hung from his frame. Steve and Natasha looked a little more put together.

"What, no more, who was that, Barnes?" Natasha asked first and outright. Bucky couldn't blame her, Steve had brought in a kid to get help, and Bucky knew him, who wasn't slightly put out by it?

"That, is Queens, I don't know his real name, he holds numerous identities with different beings, but I know him as Queens, that who he wants me to know him as. He lives on the streets, has done since I met him almost a year ago, possibly longer. I met him way back in Queens, but he has migrated closer to central New York. I suspect because it's easier to make money, but there is a more sinister reason. Queens is on the run from a gang who forced him into their circle, they liked it when he did what they wanted. And that was some messed up stuff, but that kid, that kid has a heart of gold," Bucky took a breather to calm the emotions bubbling under the surface.

"He ran from the small amount of protection they offered and fled, but they have chased him from Queens. They have threatened him, attacked him, hurt him in more way than one. That stops today."

The group was silent. This was not something they were trained for. Aliens, Gods, anything but a kid who Barnes had picked off the street.

"So what do we do with him?" Steve asked, he knew his friend felt strongly about the boy. It was a long time since Bucky had felt anything similar.

"It's simple Steve, we help him. I thought I explained that," the man snapped, the darker part of his mind was swirling with the recent amount of emotion, begging to have full control to aid the hosts requests.

"Cool it Barnes, we need to know more about this kid so we can help him. So that doesn't mean sending him into a panic attack the minute he wakes up, Coulson," Tony spoke, his voice level, but the undertones of frustration were clear.

It was a downward spiral from there. Everyone was arguing, except Natasha who stood off to the side. Staring blankly into Peter's room.

The men only stopped when a clear voice cut through, "gentlemen if you are finished having your dummy spit I may have some say in the matter that might help you." If anyone could so passively silence a room, it was Bruce Banner. The group turned to the scientist, intrigued.

"Ive spoken to Steve, I've taken the liberty to go through some missing person reports and narrowing it down to Peter Parker of Queens, former attendee of Midtown School of Science and Tech. Parents declared dead after a plane crash, uncle was shot dead in the street, and Aunt died of Motor Neurone Disease two years ago, briefly leave Peter in a foster home with guardian known as Maria Jones. Jones failed to submit a missing persons report until he was called up by the government on Peter's twenty days missing from school and weekend extra curricular activities."

They were silent, this kid who they were looking down upon for having a meltdown , suddenly had a whole back story to justify.

"You missed something," Bucky corrected quietly, they all turned to the quit man with expectant eyes. "Peter has high functioning Autism, I picked at him the fifth time we met. He had mannerisms, that in the forties, weren't dealt with as well as in these days. He came clean and told me I had no obligation to continue talking to him. I told him otherwise. That's why he freaked out so badly about waking up then with Coulson, he can't cope."

***************

Peter woke up an hour later, this time he had Bucky by his side and is within his sight as soon as his eyes fully focus.

"Hey Queens," Bucky smiled, Peter's tired eyes blinked a few times before opening for good.

"That man, Steve. I need to see him," Peter told him firmly, Bucky looked conflicted.

"Queens, I dunno you needa-" Bucky was cut off by Peter's voice, still coming through strong.

"Peter, my name is Peter," Bucky's head tilted slightly, huffing out a small sigh.

"I know kid, I know."

****************

After much persuasion, Peter was able to leave medical briefly to meet Steve under strict instructions that if he felt any dizziness or nausea he was to return immediately. Riding the elevator up to the communal floor, in his tattered street clothes next to a suspected Kennedy assassin, Peter felt his mouth become very dry. What was he doing here? Hundred, thousands of people have been saved by Steve Rogers, why did he feel this need to thank him? Deep down he knew all too well.

The doors slid open to reveal the floor. A medium height man sat over a bowl of something, Steve Rogers was looking at something Avenger-y on the holographic screens. Tony Stark was still in his oily clothes, and under the careful watch of Friday to consume a liquid other than coffee (i.e water).

The opening of the elevator got the attention of the occupants, Peter shrank marginally behind the man next to him. Bucky made eye contact with Steve, and jerked his head towards the adjacent kitchen. Steve got the memo and swiped the holograms away, and led the way to the kitchen, followed by Bucky and Peter.

They stood around the island bench top, silent and tense.

"I gotta get my gun off Clint," Bucky excused himself with an obvious lie, but it was much appreciated by Peter.

But he still waited awkwardly waiting for the words to reach his mouth, and when they came they came in a rush.

"Thank-you-for-helping-me," Peter blurted out, his tongue tripping over itself, "but I'd appreciate if you erased this whole episode from your head and I'll do the same. Because I don't know how or if I can ever pay any of you back. I do not need that on my conscience."

Steve was silent, all his face was blank other than the hint of concern in the crease of his brow.

"Sit down kid," he gestured for the stool beside Peter as he sat down across from him, he waited for Peter to be seated. "I'm going to telly you a story from before the ice. I had a friend, my only true friend. He was a heck of a lot taller and healthier, I was exactly how the photos show I am. Almost like you, all limbs. But I was dumb, I didn't run away from the fights, I ran head first into the fray. But my friend would always get my sorry behind out of the fight, when I was too dumb to call quits. And throw a few punches on my behalf. Almost every day for three years he did that, and every day I tried to pay this guys back. And when his arse was kicked by some older guys for being seen with me in class, I gave him a way out. But he stayed."

Steve drew a breath, "I guess why I'm telling you this is because, you can't always pay people back. And kid, you can't stop people helping you, but you can learn to accept it. I get it, you've had to learn to be self sufficient for a long time. If you let us help, we can and we will, because your in something deep here son. Something beyond your control."

The world was buzzing around Peter. He had a tingle at the back of his neck.

His heart was palpitating.

The room was too small.

"If you need us, if you need me, I'll be there Peter."

" Adios America, tal vez alguna dia" Peter said, trusting the man knew Spanish like the books said he did.

"Adios Reinas."

* * * *

There was angry chaos when the team learned Peter had left under the watch of Steve, but he merely shrugged at their protests. Tony and Clint were seen around the city more frequently over the coming weeks. Their searches proved fruitless if Peter wanted to be found he would show himself.

It was not looking like he would show in the near future.

But Peter never left them.

He was one of the voices that Steve heard in the street, his singing still as incredible as ever.

He was the boy in library window in Queens, that Bucky would pass when he let his body wander.

His heritage was in the dormant files of Richard and Mary Parker that would flash across Natasha screen.

His genius was in the webs that stuck to Tony's suit in the dark of the night in a hunt for the unknown vigilante.

His humour was in the too skinny kid who's name tag read Parker, that served Clint Barton his sandwich on Sundays who hid behind the counter at the shitty corner store. 

 

 

He was in the Avengers smile's when they heard that 'Missing teen, Peter Parker was returned to the care of new guardian, Steven Westcott.'

He was in their hearts when they heard 'Missing teen, Peter Parker reports guardian Steven Westcott for child abuse.' 

 

He was in their tears when he turned up in Stark's lobby the minute the doors opened at five am. 

 

He was in Bucky's arms when he sobbed for help.


	2. I'll Make a Million Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow chapter was highly requested... (I am so sorry for the Hamilton references)

Previously...

 

He was in the Avengers smile's when they heard that 'Missing teen, Peter Parker was returned to the care of new guardian, Steven Westcott.'

He was in their hearts when they heard 'Missing teen, Peter Parker reports guardian Steven Westcott for child abuse.'

He was in their tears when he turned up in Stark's lobby the minute the doors opened at five am. 

He was in Bucky's arms when he sobbed for help.

 

Clint hadn't stop watching the kid. Peter hadn't moved from the arm chair in two hours. He hadn't accepted any food or water, but god did he need it. It was half past seven and they had a traumatised teenager who would not speak. They had no idea what to do, hell none of them really knew him. Bucky, who did know him, was currently incapacitated.

He was actually having a break down in the training room. Steve was trying to get him back down to a better frame of mind, one that could deal with the situation.

Because they were royally fucked.

Then the elevator dinged, and out came Bucky with red eyes and a battle ready face. He locked onto Peter, eyes analysing him properly for the first time. The boy had gaunt, pale cheeks and his arms were even skinner then when he was on the streets.

 

The man approached slowly, and kneeled in front of him. Edging the line of too far away from him. He made no move to touch him, he looked so fragile. 

"Hey Queens," the man greeted quietly, relief was evident on the boys face. He ached for his old life, before Skip came in and ruined everything. "You gave us a surprise visit this morning . Why'd you come so early? Tony's an arse in the morning?" A ghost, of ghost of a smile flickered across Peter's lips, but all too soon the the flicker of light on his face receded back to shadows.

"Well, until you feel like talking pal this is what we're gonna do; you are going to drink one glass of water, then we're gonna get you some clean clothes." Peter nodded, and Bucky let out a breath he was holding. He strode to the kitchen and reached for a glass.

"Buck," Steve warns quietly. Bucky didn't have time to react, Peter was right there like a shadow when he turns around. With out a sound, shoves himself into Bucky's arms and buries himself there with such force that Bucky dropped the glass. 

The noise prompted Peter to sob violently. He felt as broken as the glass shards on the floor, if Bucky released his grip he too would fall and shatter.

"Don't let me go back please!" He wailed, the man brought them both to the floor. "I can't go! I hate him, I hate him so much!" The teenager was distraught, his fist bunching into Buck's green sweater. The anxiety in everyone's chest swelled.

"Peter," Bucky tilted his face up to his own, "what did he do to you?" The room fell silent in anticipation. Bucky felt his chest constrict painfully, this kid was hurting and he couldn't not stop it and that hurt more than anything. Peter tucked his head under Bucky's chin, delaying the inevitable truth.

He painstakingly drew back from the embrace, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his grey shirt. In one jolty movement he pulled it over his head. Revealing his last line of defence from onlookers, revealing what he had been trying to hide from social workers and class mates. 

 

From himself.

 

With the shirt gone he felt vulnerable, just like when the shirt was gun around Skip. 

When his clothes were gone around Skip.

The only difference he could use to ground himself was that with Skip around it was never this quiet. 

The home was always full of loud friends, his gasping breath or the whistling of a belt.

No one spoke as their eyes traced the peeling and scarring welts on his back. No one spoke when Steve approached quietly and slid down against the cabinet next to Peter. With slow movements he reached for Peter's wrist and turned it over. Peter let his arm be examined, on the inside were hundreds of inch long scars. 

And two huge ones running the entire length of his arm. 

Peter remembered that night, vividly. 

_It was the first time Skip had done more than use his belt. He felt dirty and broken, no matter how much he wanted to run to the library where he saw Bucky wander past. He wanted to sing at the café where Steve had talked to him._

_He was able to reach Skip's pocket knife on the counter. It didn't kill him, and that made him mad as hell._

_So he kept routine, every time Skip hurt him he'd go behind the dumpster and cut a little harder, a little longer. ___

__Steve ran his large hand softly over the scars, some of which were as fresh as three am this morning. His healing factor gave up two months ago. Peter slumped his head onto Steve's shoulder, maybe he could just rest here safely for a while._ _

__And he did, until someone with strong, warm arms lifted him into the air._ _

___Skip could never pick him up. ____ _

____Someone gave him a new shirt, it was too big._ _ _ _

_____Skip always gave him small shirts. ____ _ _ _

______Warm arms guided him back onto the bed and onto the pillows. Expensive ones, he could smell the lavender oil on them. Someone wanted him to sleep well._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Skip used bad tasting medicine if he wanted Peter to sleep. ____ _ _ _ _ _

________The sun was setting when he woke. The room quiet, a sandwich and a plastic cup of water were on the bedside table. His spidey senses (the only thing he had going for him) told him that the laughter down the hall was from friendlies._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Skip's friends were not friendly. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________A woman with a clipped accent pointed him in the direction of the bathrooms with a kindly smile. Her eyes filled with a maternal care he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He felt bad about his routine when the blood hid the pristine sink. The same woman was there when he came back, she carefully wrapped his wounds, then slipped an elastic band on the other wrist._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Skip never helped him. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Days passed, filled with gentle arms and warm eyes. It was filled of growing trips into the common room to see Bucky, and soon overs such as Steve and the woman who dressed his arm. Peter didn't speak too much, but redid start drawing on surfaces. First it was was a receipt on the counter, then it was the shopping list. Minor things, but when a dead dog appeared on the bathroom bench someone shoved a sketch book into his hands they stopped appearing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Peter realised that Skip came in all forms ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Two weeks later Bucky woke Peter early one morning. A suit in hands, _oh, it was today _. He and Bucky turned up to the court house to see each Avenger in varying degrees of disguise in the audience. Peter would have smiled, but he also would have puked. It was a tiresome battle between Stark's lawyers and the one Skip had payed with what ever one he had socked away. Peter spoke once, then Steve and Bucky were called to the stand. They were questioned viciously as to why they alerted no one to Peter's presence.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________Last time Peter left the court house it was in the not so good care of Skip, this time he was under the guardianship of Tony Stark (because being ex-assassin isn't good on the records apparently). ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Life takes a low when Peter struggles to move on with his life, and his ticks making time in the workshop harder than necessary. Loud noises begin to effect him even more, physical contact comes only after discussion. And his hands, they shake. Meaning things like welding of drawing become time consuming. It was a slow process, but Bucky always helped him. Always there with calm words that helped the shaking die down, or warm hands that enveloped his and guided him away from the work bench. That led him to the worn out couch, where they stayed in peace._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________On the days when Peter felt that there was no point, he looked at where he is and where he started. How much he had over come to where he was now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Peter Parker not perfect._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He will make a million mistakes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He will fall apart._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He will bleed and fight with his demons._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He will be undone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________But the Avengers remind him of something everyday. Some days he needs a bigger reminder than others, but some days he knows it deep down._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Some day, he will blow us all away._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there we go

**Author's Note:**

> Peters line in Spanish: Goodbye America. Maybe one day.  
> Steves Line: Goodbye Queens.  
> This is probably wrong but oh well aha. 
> 
>  
> 
> Do y'all want a second chapter or?????


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